


Nightmares

by rosemallows



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Books, M/M, Post-The Death Cure, Post-The Maze Runner, Post-The Scorch Trials, The Death Cure Spoilers, i'm sick of newtmas being the top ship when newt replaced all the thominho scenes in the book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-16 07:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13631589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosemallows/pseuds/rosemallows
Summary: This is a very old fic so my writing style may be different and a lil cliche. I wrote this back when I was twelve or eleven.I reposted this because I saw The Death Cure and was very disappointed with how in the book, as Thomas went on his adventures, Minho was actually by his side and was ". . .the closest friend to him other than Teresa," and he was completely replaced with Newt.Resulting in Newtmas to be screamed everywhere.So, here is me, contributing to the very lack of ThoMinho. AO3 and Tumblr is completely devoid of anything Thomas and Minho related. Any ThoMinho post gets less than a hundred notes.So.Read the books! Thomas and Minho have a wonderful bond and friendship.Thanks movie. For firing me up.





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very old fic so my writing style may be different and a lil cliche. I wrote this back when I was twelve or eleven.  
> I reposted this because I saw The Death Cure and was very disappointed with how in the book, as Thomas went on his adventures, Minho was actually by his side and was ". . .the closest friend to him other than Teresa," and he was completely replaced with Newt.  
> Resulting in Newtmas to be screamed everywhere.
> 
> So, here is me, contributing to the very lack of ThoMinho. AO3 and Tumblr is completely devoid of anything Thomas and Minho related. Any ThoMinho post gets less than a hundred notes.
> 
> So.
> 
> Read the books! Thomas and Minho have a wonderful bond and friendship.
> 
> Thanks movie. For firing me up.

**One day I'm going to edit this and rewrite the parts that make no sense.**

 

And right then, Thomas lifted his head, breaths short, sweat slick on his neck. He crossed his ankles, gasped for breath and pulled himself into his feet, rocking back and forth. His eyes looked at nothing in the dark. Everything was dark. He pulled the blankets off of him, leaping out of the bed and onto the wooden floor that creaked beneath his feet.

Builders had managed to build more houses for civilization, and it's still a work in progress. People who were builders before the Flare had come to help, giving friendly tips to the builders who did their best to make nice houses. But the construction workers seemed to have a more formal idea, and thus created nice, cozy houses with tools and all. Of course, it kind of sucked that there was no A/C, but people were working on being able to have actual air conditioning again. It's a work in progress, but it's actually working really fast.

There are a lot of houses so far, all gorgeous and all different in size, length, and design. A mom and a child living in a small but manageable cottage surrounded by the wonderful new flowers created by nature. Still, there was still a lot of people who didn't have houses. Some settled for sleeping on the grass, even if the kids were upset about it. Most shared homes with the people who did have houses.

Thomas received a nice house. He didn't ask for it. Minho had actually requested a house for Thomas, stating, "Give this dumb shank a house. He deserves it," with a slight wink.

Thomas walked over his floor, flickering on the lights that civilization has successfully recreated. The whole room lit up, showing the messy bed and new, fresh clothes thrown on the floor created by women who had experience in knitting and sewing. Luckily, they made decent clothes. Modern, actually. Thomas picked up a shirt and pulled it up and over his head. A waft of fresh garden herbs flooded his nose. He sighed, blinking once before staring at the window at the dark, dark sky. Stars were glimmering. He stepped into the hall and into his kitchen. The kitchen had nice flooring and a stone counter. There wasn't a fridge though. Another thing that the people were hoping to recreate. Thomas yawned before opening his eyes again and looking at his front door. He slowly approached it before wrenching it open. He almost fainted when a familiar face appeared out of nowhere, just so that the tips of their noses were touching.

"H—Hey Minho," Thomas stuttered, utterly surprised by the visit. Minho seemed slightly surprised as well and backed away.

"Oh uh . . . Rise and shine, shank," he muttered, his face slightly hidden now that he backed up. "I thought you were sleeping."

"I couldn't sleep," Thomas muttered. "I was just about to get some fresh air."

It was true. He had a nightmare. Killing Newt again . . .

Jesus. That was horrible. The click of a gun, and the bullet piercing his friend's flesh. He could almost hear it. Feel the feeling of his friend's body clatter onto the concrete. He froze, heart sinking a bit. His stomach tightened.

"Are you okay?" Minho asked, waving a hand in front of Thomas' face. "Earth to Thomas?"

Thomas' stomach turned a bit. "Hm," he mumbled, trying to stay focused, but all he could think of was the smell of blood and grime and the smell of Cranks and the screams.

_I hate you._

_Kill me, if you've ever been my friend. Kill me._

And Thomas swayed on his feet.

And the crazed look in Newt's eyes, as if he'd really murder Thomas. Newt's once determined, focused, face, turned to madness within days. Just a few months ago, Thomas saw that face, squeezed his eyes close as he tightened his grip around the gun.

_Did I ever tell you why I got this bloody limp?_

_Kill me you shuck coward! Prove you can do the right thing._

And Thomas saw everything swirl around him. The night air, Minho, the lights in his cottage. He fell.

Minho's powerful arms caught him, hoisting his shoulders. He ended up face planting into Minho's stomach. Thomas dizzily looked up, feeling sick. Oh man.

"Jesus, Thomas. You're already falling for me," Minho joked, looking down at Thomas.

"Heh," the brunette in his arms laughed dryly. He looked pale and sick, like he might throw up, and Minho wore a serious expression.

"Damn, Thomas . . . You look like you're gonna puke all over me."

He lifted the boy a bit. Minho looked a bit uncomfortable. "I'll put you on the couch."

Thomas could barely breathe. He never felt this feeling before. A single memory caused him to feel sick. He could imagine the blood on his neck. Cranks.

_I'm a bloody Crank._

Thomas groaned as he was placed onto the couch. He clutched his head. Minho shifted on his feet, then kneeled down on the ground and stared at Thomas. "I'll get you some water from the pump, okay Greenbean?"

Thomas almost burst out in laughter. He hasn't heard that nickname in a while.

"I—I'm fine," Thomas stuttered. He quickly sat up in a butterfly position. Minho looked at him skeptically. He had just gotten up.

Thomas looked up at him. "Really Minho. I'm fine. I just felt a bit dizzy there. That's why I had to get some air," Thomas lied. Minho rubbed his chin.

"Hm."

Thomas quickly changed the subject. "Why _did_ you come here though?" Minho's eyes darted to Thomas's.

He rubbed the back of his neck, then shrugged.

"Boredom at its finest," he responded, then flashed a quick grin. He then turned around and scanned Thomas's cabin. "And plus, I didn't feel like sleeping in the fields."

"I thought you got your own cabin," Thomas said, rubbing his temples to calm more painful flashbacks.

"No I didn't. I actually gave up this for you," Minho said, with a grin. Thomas felt shocked.

"R—Really?" he murmured, raising an eyebrow.

"Obviously, baby," he gave a friendly wink. "The world's greatest shank. Thomas. Getting his own, special house. For getting us here."

The brunette chuckled a bit. Minho turned around again.

"Oh. And Harriet wants us to chop some wood. So the sleepers could be warm."

Thomas stared at the still lingering burn marks on the back of his friend's neck. His face still had those healed scars from being struck by lightning back in the Scorch a few months ago. "Isn't it Aris and Sonya's turn?"

"Nah, they already chopped some today. And we gotta harvest some crops from the garden." Minho visibly shuddered. "Why can't that shuck Gally do it?"

Thomas nuzzled his head into the couch, beginning to feel slightly tired again. "I don't know, dude. Maybe Brenda could help us."

Minho seemed to freeze for a split second at the mentioning of Brenda.

"Oh. _Her_. Your little girlfriend, right?" Minho snickered with a roll of his eyes. He walked out of Thomas's view, into the kitchen. Thomas heard the opening of a cabinet, then the squeak and groan of his water pump being used.

"She's not my girlfriend," Thomas called. He closed his eyes and knitted his eyebrows together, annoyed at the fact that Minho still thought that. Yes, when they were together, looking at the sunset, she did kiss him, and Thomas did have a slight crush on her. But then, the feelings didn't last after a few weeks. Every time she did pecked his lips, his cheek, grabbed for his hand, he didn't feel that same butterfly feeling anymore.

"Mhm. Sure. I'm sure kissing each other on the lips and making gooey eyes at each other means you're friends," Minho called from the kitchen. He returned with a cup of water and a scowl on his face, as if the thought of Brenda made him feel disgusted.

Thomas narrowed his eyes. Minho handed him the cup of water. "Go ahead, shank. Drink it."

He took a sip of the water. The coolness made his throat feel good.

" _She's_ the one who wants to kiss me, Minho," Thomas sighed. Minho crossed his arms, the irritated look on his face growing.

"Yeah yeah yeah."

He glanced at the watch that he still had. "It's one in the morning."

"No, really Captain Obvious?" Minho rolled his eyes. "C'mon Thomas. Let's get ya to bed." Thomas stood up, chugging down the cup of water before setting it onto the table.

"Are you gonna stay here?"

Minho turned around and looked at him, crossing his powerful arms. "Sure, why not?" He turned and went into Thomas's bedroom. Thomas came in after him and plopped onto his mattress, pulling the wool blankets up to his chest.

There was a sudden weight on the mattress that snapped Thomas to reality once he was dozing off. He realized that Minho had gotten into bed _with_ him. The brunette instantly paled and all the remaining blood he had rushed to his cheeks. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Only the soft click of his teeth when he snapped his mouth close.

Minho laid down, then flipped over on his side to face Thomas. The Asian's hair pressed against the mattress. He grinned wide at Thomas. "You look _terrified_ , Thomas."

They were just so _close_. Thomas shook a bit. Their noses were almost touching. He saw the faded burn marks on his face. His chocolate brown eyes.Thomas was a blushing mess. Minho was just smiling a bit. "No, I just thought you were sleeping on the couch . . ." he muttered.

Minho shrugged, about to close his eyes. "I'm sleeping with you tonight. Now shut up you ugly shank. Go to sleep." He reached up and squished Thomas's cheeks with his hand before shutting his eyes. Thomas didn't know what else to do. So, he closed his eyes. Minho smelt fresh. He smelt like the herbs in the fields of the Paradise. After all, he did make his own special shampoo called "Minho Magic". Since Frypan and other chefs had grown cooking oil, Minho stole a container of vegetable oil from their small kitchen. Frypan told Thomas that the secret was the sunflower seeds and soaking them and baking them and crushing them and then boiling them. Thomas didn't really pay attention. But Minho had apparently mixed together some oil and water. Then, he grabbed a lot of the sweet smelling herbs and put it into a jar of water.

Minho didn't tell him what type of herbs though. He also mentioned that one day when they were in the Glade that he had found out that even though you leave plants or anything in water for too long, the water soaks up the color and a bit of the flavor. Which is something else he did. Then, he poured the water that soaked up the herbs, oil, and water into a jar and mixed them together.

When Thomas smelt the product, it smelt like something magical. He didn't comment about it, afraid of being teased by his friend. But that's what Minho smelt like. He smelt like the mixture of those sweet smelling herbs and the smell was so comforting and nice. He couldn't believe that Minho used his own shampoo. He didn't share any with anyone, saying that it was his own secret to smelling like an angel, and his only.

Minho always used it when he went to the lagoon. There was a special lagoon in Paradise. It had the clearest waters, clearer than the ones in the Glade, and the softest grass surrounding it. It had this peaceful feeling. It seemed to be the most magical thing there. One, because you never got your feet dirty if you stepped out. Two, it was never cold. Three, the water was just so beautifully blue. Minho got his own bucket of water, hid behind a tree or a tall field and slowly scrubbed himself clean. Sadly, he didn't make any "Minho Magic Body Soap" (That was still in the works). So really, only his head was the thing that smelled the best.

The lagoon was large. Enormous. It could probably fit a thousand large elephants. Everyone got water from there to bathe. And some people came to do their laundry, or swim. Some people fished there, too. Usually the chefs were the ones to get some fish to provide food, but some cooked their own if they were a chef, knew how to cook, or if they had farms. Most of the villagers didn't need a cook, but Frypan liked making food for the Gladers still.

Thomas went to the lagoon from time to time to do some laundry if he ran out of clean clothes. He never cleaned his clothes unless he didn't have another outfit out. Otherwise, while he is still in his dirty clothes, he would clean up all of those clothes and wait. He did bathe, but he hated it because no shower head would rain down upon him. If there was anything he missed from the other world, it was the technology.

Thomas took the time to inhale those sweet herbs and sighed in content. He was dozing, so tired, and soon fell into a fretful sleep.

 

* * *

 

"Tommy, Tommy, Tommy," a voice echoed.

"Just kill me, kill me," he said, defeated. And this time, they weren't in an alley. They were standing far apart, in a white room. Newt. He was normal. His blonde hair clean and his clothes as well.

His eyebrows were knitted together, and he heaved in a deep breath. "Please, will you kill me? Just bloody do it," he said, so calm and Thomas panicked. The blonde Newt shut his eyes, then opened them again. "Stop trying to do the right thing and kill me. You shuck traitor," his voice grew agitated. "You have the gun. Do it."

Thomas's eyes widened. "N—Newt . . . What are you doing? Why are we in here? You—You don't— You didn't die like this," he whispered. Thomas's eyes began to water, and he looked at his hands, a gun pressed into his palms.

Newt looked frustrated. "Stop and shoot me. I'm a crank, Thomas, I'm a bloody crank, do you not understand?" he said in an eerily calm voice. His chin raised up at him. Newt stood still.

Thomas was just so confused. He opened and closed his mouth. "How are you so calm? Newt, I can save you this time."

Newt growled, not so calm this time. And suddenly, they were closer. But Thomas didn't understand why because no one moved. The room had shrunken.

"Are you bloody deaf? How hard is it to point your gun at me and pull the buggin' trigger, Tommy!?" Newt shouted, anger clouding his eyes. He looked at Thomas's gun, his arms are shaking. Thomas just stared at him. The blonde, reached out and angrily pulled the gun out of his hand. Thomas blinked.

"W—Wait! Newt!" he shrieked, reaching for the gun. Newt huffed, glaring daggers into the other teen. He aimed the gun at Thomas quickly. "Don't come any closer, shuck face," he sneered. Newt's face was angry. Thomas shook, terrified at killing his friend again.

"Please Newt. I can save you. Just don't make me kill you."

"If you won't bloody do it, I will," he growled, pressing the gun to his head. Newt closed his eyes, sighing.

Thomas ran forward. "Stop it!" he screamed. "Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!"

It was like some form of energy was pulling him back.

_Too late, too late, too late._

_You won't make it._

Like the room was stretching on forever as Newt tilted his head, letting the veins bulge from his neck. His mouth curled into a peaceful smile and his eyes were shut. Thomas kept screaming and and shouting and begging and spitting as he ran with so much force, so much stamina.

"Newt! What are you even doing!? You're not thinking straight! You aren't infected with the Flare! You see!?!" Thomas tried convincing. But he knew deep inside that it wouldn't work as he desperately reached for Newt.

Opening his eyes one last time, Newt shouted, "Goodbye Thomas." And then he pulled the trigger, and Thomas screamed. And usually, the dream ended right there, but that time, He saw horror, gore, blood, and Thomas wanted to weep and throw up and cry. Because Newt's body jerked from the impact, and there was a huge splatter of blood that erupted from Newt's right temple. And his skin was pale, and the content smile was still on his face, and Thomas made it just then, to Newt's lifeless body.

Blood pooled under his head, growing worse and worse and Thomas couldn't stop screaming and shaking and shuddering. Because, he had never seen Newt's hollow body until now. And it pained him. It scared him. He couldn't deal with it, and he felt hands touch his back as he cried. Tears stained his cheeks. Tears touched his lips and tongue and dripped onto his shirt.

Thomas held onto his shirt, not moving, feeling cold and stone and like ice. When he looked up, the white room showed blood and more blood from Newt's body, taunting him.

But he was haunted terribly by the image of that broken soul. That dead body.

_Thomas . . ._

Thomas looked up, still shuddering and searching for the voice.

_Thomas . . ._

He jumped to his feet, looking at the bleeding body. Soundless, noiseless. "Wh-What?"

_Thomas!_

* * *

 

" _Thomas!_ " Minho whisper-shouted. Thomas woke up abruptly, shaking. He hurt his head against something. Then he looked up, seeing chocolate brown eyes staring down at him in the dark. They glowed brightly .

Thomas's cheeks felt wet, and his throat felt dry. "What?" he said flatly, rubbing his eyes. Minho narrowed his eyebrows at him.

"What the hell, shank. You were crying on me," Minho muttered. Thomas quickly recalled his dreams and felt his face fall.

"I—I was? I didn't notice," he tried to lie.

Minho stared down at him with distaste. His hands touched either side of Thomas's temples. Thomas felt his body grow with warmth at the touch. It was a firm yet gentle touch.

"Thomas," he murmured. "You shuckin' suck at lying." He rolled his thumbs over Thomas's temple. Thomas sighed, closing his eyes, before opening them again to meet Minho's. He felt super awkward. One, he was lying his head on Minho's lap. Two, Minho was kind of massaging his temples which felt really, _really_ nice. Three, he was in. Minho's. Lap.

His ankles shifted under Thomas's neck. Thomas finally spoke again. "It was just a nightmare," he swallowed. Minho studied his eyes before rolling his own.

"Obviously. You were crying. I tried waking you up but you were out cold, _and_ you were cold. Cold as ice. I kept calling your name, but you wouldn't wake up. Had me scared there, Tommy." Thomas froze at 'Tommy'. He shook his head, fighting the urge not to shudder and shiver.

Minho's hands traveled down to Thomas's cheeks. He held his cold, freezing cheeks, held his face. Thomas sighed again in content. "I'm sorry . . . Just . . . erm, it was about Teresa," he lied again. Though he hated to admit it, but he didn't feel extremely terrible for Teresa's death mostly because he didn't cause it. But Newt's death . . .

It was so haunting.

Minho squinted his eyes, his body tensed, Thomas could tell. "Her? The girl who almost killed you?" Minho snorted. Thomas glared at him.

"Hey, give her a break," he said without thinking. "I mean . . . Well, it was hard forgiving her. But I had to. If I didn't, nothing would go right. We probably wouldn't make it," Thomas swallowed. "She had good intentions." Minho shook his head and gave Thomas a skeptical look.

"Mhm. Sure."

Thomas narrowed his eyebrows and lifted his arm, then poked his friend's nose. Minho smacked his arm down. "Thomas, what the hell." His face had a slight tint of pink. The brunette closed his eyes.

"I don't know. It's over. I don't want to talk about my daily nightmares anymore."

"Wait, you've had more than one?" Minho asked, placing his hands back on Thomas's face.

Thomas paled. _Dammit, he shouldn't have mentioned it._ "I—Uh . . . I," he swallowed.

". . . I can't blame you, shank. After all the klunk we've been through. Heck, I'll admit that I had a nightmare about Newt," Minho sighed, then looked up and away. Thomas trembled a bit. _Oh no_ , he instantly thought, feeling like he might throw up.

"He was a Crank, and was trying to kill me and was just . . . so insane," Minho swallowed. Then he looked down at his friend again.

"Thomas?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as Thomas was looking to the side, his arms trembling slightly.

"Thomas, look at me," Minho commanded, knitting his brows. Thomas abruptly looked back up, looking horrified and pale.

"W—What?"

Minho was taken quite aback. "Geez, shank. You look like you've seen a ghost."

Thomas shook his head. "I'm going back to sleep now." Soon, Thomas began sitting up, not before Minho pushed him back down so suddenly. Thomas began to redden with wide eyes.

"M—Minho, what the hell?" he stuttered as the Asian glared playfully at him.

"Just relax, shuck-face," he murmured, putting his hand over Thomas's eyes. "Sleep."

Thomas's cheeks brightened more. "I can't when your sweaty hand is covering my eyes!"

Minho laughed. Then he took off his hand and patted the boy's head. "Alright, alright. Go. Sleep."

Thomas shook his head thinking, _This is stupid_ , but he closed his eyes anyway. Afterwards, there was nothing but silence. All Thomas could hear so far was his breathing and Minho's and the sound of crickets chirping in the outside of his cottage. Thomas was drifting off due to the relaxing sounds. Minho's stupid hands gently played with Thomas's hair. Thomas found it even harder to stay awake now from the relaxing feeling. Minho played with Thomas's fluffy hair, and seemed happy that Thomas didn't really give a damn. Either that, or he was fast asleep.

Thomas was out like a light. His head was comfortably set in Minho's lap, turned to the side. His chest was rising up and down. Minho couldn't sleep. Thomas wasn't crying this time, which made Minho feel somewhat relieved. He stirred a couple of times, and his leg or arm would sometimes twitch, which Minho found funny.

Honestly, Minho could not get enough of Thomas. He was a dork. He was kind of funny. Minho liked that about Thomas. He remembered a few months ago how they were in Denver and he said, _"If I don't see you on the other side, remember that I love you."_. It made Minho smirk. Who couldn't love Thomas?

And the time in Denver when WICKED tried to take over Thomas's body. He felt so terrified. Felt more scared there when Thomas had a knife and was slashing everything.Then Minho had pinned Thomas to the ground, and his heart was thudding against his chest and his mind was going crazy because he had held him to the ground. But he couldn't let Thomas hurt anyone. Minho remembered saying that he wouldn't let go until WICKED let go of his mind.Thomas's eyes were dilated and crazy and Minho could _tell_ that Thomas was trying _so_ hard.

Then when Thomas chose Brenda over him, it cracked open Minho's heart because all the possibilities of Thomas dying, being destroyed, being killed in a gruesome death haunted him. Then when he arrived at WICKED with Gally, Minho was just _so_ happy. _Extremely_ happy. He couldn't help but wrap his arms around Thomas's disgustingly pleasant body. He smelled like crap, but wrapping himself around his body warmth felt so nice. He hugged him so tightly, nuzzling his face into his shoulder. In his mind, he had said, _You don't know how terrified I was you ugly shank!_

He remembered Gally being all awkward, scratching his neck in the corner of his eyes. Then when that guy shot Thomas back in the Scorch. Minho's blood lust had taken over. He beat him to death, even when one of the Gladers tried pulling him away. Minho couldn't stop. He. Shot. Thomas.

He. Shot. His. Friend.

Minho had an indescribable, insane, mad look. "You shot him," he seethed. It sounded more like a deep rumble in his throat. "I'll kill you. I'll kill you. I'll kill you. I'll kill YOU!" he had screamed over and over again, gripping the man's hair and slamming his face into the ground after every time he finished saying his word.

"Minho, Minho! Minho! MINHO! MINHO STOP!" someone had screeched, wrapping their arms around his body and pulling him with force. He had twisted, thrashed and kicked and flailed his arms out, screaming out as he was dragged away. He panted heavily with a crave to _murder_ that man. He had glanced at the man's blood smeared face and bruises around his neck, arms, and legs.

Minho snapped back to reality. Thomas was snoring slightly now. Minho sighed, staring at Thomas's face. This time, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Thomas's lips.

He didn't care if he woke up or not. Because, right there and then, Minho realized that he loves Thomas. All the scenarios that they did for each other in the past, replayed over and over again in Minho's head. And this was a new scenario that he had done for Thomas, and himself.

What surprised Minho the most was the cold hand on the back of his neck, pushing him down and Thomas's frigid lips coming to life and pressing rougher against Minho's.

"Min . . ." Thomas had groggily muttered. He had woken up, feeling a strangely warm pair of lips brush his. It _had_ to be Minho. He liked it. He liked it so much. He couldn't help but _like_ it so much. This felt so nice to him. But it felt like he was betraying Brenda, not that they were really a thing. He doesn't want to like Minho so much, but he can't help it. He hugged him, protected him . . .

He felt butterflies ten times the size of when he met Brenda flutter desperately in his stomach.

Honestly, Thomas wants to smother Minho with hugs. But he might get called a nerd. Suddenly, Minho's mouth disconnected with his, and he looked up again into his brown eyes. And all of a sudden, more and more and more red spread around Thomas' pale face, which made Minho snicker.

"Hey, shank," Minho had muttered. His hands grabbed Thomas' forearms, and then let go and touched his waist. His arms wrapped around them, and his forehead pressed against the back of Thomas' shoulder.

Thomas tensed for a moment, a quiet gasp coming from him. He felt suddenly warm. This was a really nice hug. Thomas wanted to melt into it. The sun was beginning to rise up. Thomas huffed.

Minho grinned into Thomas' shoulders. And what was going through his mind was: _This ugly shank is mine._ and  _Holy shit. Holy shit. He is kissing me. He is totally in love with me._

Thomas wanted to get some soup from Frypan's, but he also wanted to stay here and let Minho hug him like this forever.

"Min," Thomas said quietly.

"What?" he crankily murmured.

Thomas almost laughed. "We went through all that crap in the Scorch and the Maze together, and now we're here in a Paradise, huh?"

"I mean, that's exactly what happened, yeah," Minho muttered. After another moment of silence, Minho sighed loudly and untangled his arms, much to Thomas' disappointment.

He stood up from the mattress.

"Wait, Minho," Thomas called out.

Minho turned around again. "What? You miss me already?"

"N—No um," Thomas murmured, another blush blooming on his cheeks, which Minho silently cackled at again.

"This might come off as _really_ cheesy but—" Thomas braced himself. "—thank you. At least, for being a good leader and whatnot." After that, Minho looked at Thomas up and down, at his messy hair and glowing red cheeks. How he kept rubbing the back of his neck and shamefully bowing his head.

Minho nodded to himself, then ran into a sprint and launched himself at Thomas. "Watch out, Thomas!" he called before tackling Thomas to the mattress in another, tight bear hug, crushing Thomas beneath his weight. His arms had tightly wrapped around his body.

"Mmf! Min—Minho!" he wheezed, as his mid-section was being squeezed and his back was being crushed.

 

**End**

 


End file.
